Ian

for Joy Division

All catastrophe is wide
like the Grand Canyon
the echo hangs
longer than a dead man at the end of a rope
all limbs raggedy before the blood goes cold
and everything turns blue in you
and the cry still lingers in nothing but space

daffodils and bubbles can make you smile
after he's cut down and the empty kitchen is a blessing
footsteps come and go in you
but whose legs they belonged to escapes you
and there are no bubbles in the whole of heaven
that can change the end of him
and daffodils don't bloom till spring
and the ice and the gray and the depth of your breath
confirms its still January

all his secrets slept with strangers
and laughed a public image laugh
but nothing was funny
and nothing was said
when all his prettiest songs forgot their words
and no chorus was worth repeating
when the lights went out at Barton Street
and the captain's knot sailed him
the easy way on